


yell like you care about something

by jessalae



Category: Bring It On (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, First Time, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a semester of college, nothing about "home" really feels like home -- except your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yell like you care about something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peevee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peevee/gifts).



> Dear peevee, thank you for putting up such an inspiring prompt! We seem to have very similar tastes in porn -- I hope you like this. :)
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, B. Sorry for ignoring some of your excellent grammar-based advice for stylistic reasons; readers, any grammar errors are 100% my fault.

After three months away, Rancho Carne looks like an alien planet: white stucco walls and curving cul-de-sacs, peppy soccer moms and tan businessmen. Torrance has been surrounded by Cal State Chico’s pine trees and foggy mornings for so long she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to cruise the palm-lined and sun-baked streets of her hometown. She stares out the back window of the taxi, remembering each familiar turn a second too late.

Her room feels too small, and all the magazine pictures on the walls are months out of date. She starts to unpack her suitcase, piling shirts into almost-empty drawers.

Justin pokes his head around the door of her room. He’s grown about a foot since she left. “How’s that Freshman Fifteen treating you, sis? You know it’s supposed to be fif _teen_ , not fif _ty_ , right?”

“How’s the ninth grade dating scene, pizza face?” Torrance asks sweetly. “Any new girls who are into pus-oozing mouth breathers?”

He makes a face at her and slinks off, sensing that he’s lost the advantage in the timeless game of torment-your-sibling. Torrance punches the air in triumph, then feels weirdly sad. Is _everything_ going to be different, now?

She goes out for a walk after dinner, both hoping and dreading running into someone she knows, or used to know. She isn’t deliberately trying to go to the Pantones’ place, but her legs remember the route, and before she knows it she’s standing on their front step, finger on the doorbell.

The door opens. “Hey there, stranger,” Missy says, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

“Hi!” Torrance squeals, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

“You too!” Missy grabs Torrance’s shoulders and holds her at arm’s length. “Let’s see: no new tattoos, no new piercings, no obnoxious college gear, no crazy haircut. Are you sure you’ve been at college? I think maybe you’ve just been hiding out in your parents’ basement.”

Torrance rolls her eyes. “You haven’t changed much either.”

“You know Cliff’s not here, right?” Missy asks, leading Torrance through the living room and upstairs.

“Yeah, he called me. His band’s got a gig in… Santa Barbara?”

“Something like that.” Missy throws herself down on her bed and rolls over until there’s room for Torrance. “So what’s up? Tell me everything.”

They talk about Torrance’s classes, and her seriously crazy roommate, and the sororities she might try and rush next year -- all things Missy has heard before, on the phone or over email, but in person she can see Missy’s raised eyebrows and the way she doubles over laughing, desperately trying to breathe, when Torrance recounts the story of the drunk guy on her dorm floor who tried to do chin-ups on the fire sprinkler system and ended up soaking the whole hall with nasty, mildewy water.

“And I swear he smelled like pond scum for a week,” she finishes, then yawns so widely her jaw creaks. “Whoa. I think that all-nighter is still catching up with me. I’d better go to bed.”

“How long until you go back?” Missy asks as she walks Torrance to the door.

“A whole month.”

“Nice!”

“Yeah, sort of,” Torrance says. “I think I’m going to go crazy if I have to sit around at home that whole time, though.”

“Well you’re going to have to keep me company some of the time,” Missy says. “My parents are going to be on back-to-back business trips, and Cliff’s got way more out-of-town gigs than he deserves.”

“We’ll hang out, then,” Torrance says. “I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to, too.”

Missy makes a face. “If you really want to.”

“I do, I promise.” Torrance yawns again. “But not tonight. See ya!”

She walks home through the softly lit streets, for the first time all day feeling that maybe everything hasn't changed.

***

They meet up for smoothies the next day, trying out a new place that Torrance’s mom recommends. The whir of the blenders makes it impossible to hear each other, so they go for a walk around the park.

“So what’s new with you?” Torrance asks. “I feel like a total egomaniac for not even asking that last night.”

“There’s seriously nothing to tell since the last time we talked.” Missy shakes her head and takes a sip of her smoothie. “Still surviving senior year, still suffering through advanced English. I’ve been camping out at the library to get away from Cliff’s 24/7 ‘song-writing,’” she says, making quote marks in the air. “It sounds like he’s got some cat-murdering operation going in the basement. I asked Santa to bring me better sound-proofing for Christmas.”

“The library, though?” Torrance says. “I didn’t think you even knew where that was.”

“Oh, like you do? It’s right around the corner from that new gymnastics studio I’ve been trying out. It’s not bad, except the librarian has the world’s scariest death stare.” Missy makes a disapproving-or-maybe-constipated face that makes Torrance choke on her smoothie.

“What does she think you’re trying to do, summon a demon in the nonfiction section?”

“No, but that’s a good one. I’ll have to stack my books in a pentagram next time I’m in there.” They pass the playground, where shrieking children chase each other under the watchful eye of sleepy teenage babysitters, and cross the street into the neighborhood.

Missy sighs. “Seriously, Torr, life is unbe _liev_ ably boring this year. I’m still working my way up at the gym, so none of those girls pay any attention to me.” She holds her hand up to silence Torrance. “I am _not_ going to rejoin the squad, not while Courtney is captain. That bitch is on one crazy power trip, and I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”

“Fine,” Torrance sighs. “I haven’t exactly been desperate to hang out with her either, I guess.”

“Smart move. Anyway, that’s basically it,” Missy says, shrugging. “You coming back yesterday was the most exciting thing that’s happened in a long time.”

“Aw, thanks!” Torrance says. Missy rolls her eyes, but smiles a bit. “I gotta go, though. Mom wants me back in time to decorate the tree.”

“Cool,” Missy says. “Call me whenever. I’ll be sitting at home, dying of boredom.”

***

Torrance’s mom is determined to have a Christmas “just like every year,” which means decorating fifteen batches of cookies, cutting out a flurry of paper snowflakes for the tree and the mantlepiece and the door, calling half a dozen great-aunts and uncles to wish them a Merry Christmas ( _never_ a Happy Holidays), and writing a paragraph for the always-belated family Christmas letter. Torrance tries and fails to describe her first semester of college in way that isn’t just one cliche after another. Her funniest stories aren’t exactly extended-family material, so she has to leave most of them out. She sends her rough drafts to Missy, who sends them back with ridiculous details added. Torrance laughs so hard her sides hurt, but puts the normal version into the letter instead of the version where she’s triple-majoring in Brain Surgery, Astronaut Studies, and Comparative Alcoholism.

Her parents let her put some actual rum in her eggnog, which is weird. Justin actually gets her a halfway-decent present, which is weirder. Her college friends call a couple of times, but are mostly doing their own things with their own families. The only thing that seems normal is the Christmas Eve call she gets from Missy, which involves Missy giving a play-by-play of her parents’ crazy Christmas party from the upstairs balcony and covering up the phone whenever Torrance laughs too loudly into it.

***

The world of hardcore gymnastics doesn’t shut down for much, and Missy is back to practicing several hours a day as soon as Christmas is over. Torrance goes to meet her one afternoon -- they have plans to grab some fast food, then go to the movies -- and gets there kind of early. She tiptoes into the gym, which is full of echoing shouts and the sounds of limbs hitting mats, and finds a seat on the bleachers to try and spot Missy.

She finally picks her out over by the uneven parallel bars, dusting chalk onto her hands and staring intently at the lower bar. Missy takes a step back, then launches herself into the air, hands locking around the bar and muscles flexing to bring her up and over it. Her arms snap out to her sides, then forward to catch the upper bar just in time, sending herself swinging around it once, twice, three times with a twist, then back to the lower bar. She does the splits in midair, then snaps her legs back together, toes pointed and pushing towards the ceiling for another swing. Torrance watches her float almost weightless towards the ceiling, then curl into a ball and flip backwards off the bars, landing solidly on her feet. She stumbles and grimaces, mouthing the f-word, and Torrance laughs.

“Hey, Missy’s best friend.”

Torrance turns as a compact girl in a blue leotard sits down on the bleachers next to her, wiping her hands on a towel. “Um, hi?”

“She said someone was going to come pick her up,” the girl explains. “And since she hasn’t shut up about you for two weeks, we figured it was you.” She offers Torrance a hand. “I’m Kaitlin.”

“Torrance,” Torrance says, shaking her hand. “What do you mean, doesn’t shut up about me?”

Kaitlin puts on a husky voice and an incredulous expression. “This friend of mine just got back from college, and we were talking until like two in the morning, so that’s why I keep screwing up my landings. My friend came over to watch movies yesterday, I didn’t have time to practice my floor routine. My friend and I are going shopping tomorrow -- no, of course I don’t hate shopping, I’ve only said I do like ten different times.” She grins. “We all thought you were a guy she had a crush on for a while, until the shopping thing.”

“That’s so funny,” Torrance says distantly, staring across the gym at Missy. “I didn’t realize she was doing that.”

Someone hollers Kaitlin’s name from over by the balance beams, and she stands up. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. And do me a favor and keep distracting her -- she’s _this_ close to beating my score on the vault, and I worked hard for that record.”

Torrance watches Kaitlin go, and jumps when she feels a tap on her shoulder. “Hey,” Missy says, pulling her sweatpants on over her leotard. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Torrance says. “You looked really good out there.”

Missy rolls her eyes and presses a hand to her own cheek. “Stop, I’m blushing.”

“No, but really. You’re kind of amazing.” Torrance glances back over at Kaitlin. “Also, the other girls here think I’m your best friend.”

Missy busies herself with zipping up her jacket. “Eh, you sort of are,” she says lightly. “So, In N’ Out or Taco Bell?”

Torrance lets it go, but when Missy drops her off at home later that night, Torrance hugs her extra hard before she goes inside.

***

Missy’s parents are gone for New Years, off at a benefit dinner in New York, but they left a bottle of champagne and strict instructions not to have too big a party. Torrance and Missy raid their liquor cabinet, make tequila sunrises with too much grenadine, and turn on the New Year’s Rockin’ Eve special with the volume way down low.

“So what’s the boy situation?” Missy asks. “You haven’t mentioned any college hotties. Are you still pining for my stupid brother?”

“Nah,” Torrance says, stirring her drink until it’s a uniform shade of peach. “Last summer was great-- like, really great--”

“No details!” Missy says, clapping her hands over her ears. “La la la la la.”

“But anyway,” Torrance says loudly, “I think we’re going in different directions. I don’t regret breaking up with him -- I mean, we were never totally dating, anyway. I’ve just been too busy to look for anyone else. I don’t even really know _what_ I’m looking for anymore.”

“What, can you not figure out your ‘type’? Are there no good Capricorns in your dorm?” Missy teases.

“Excuse you, I’m a Leo, that would never work,” Torrance says. “I don’t know. There are some cute ones, but no sparks flying, you know? Maybe I need a break from boys for a while.”

“Ooh,” Missy says, raising her eyebrows. “Gonna play for the other team?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Torrance traces the pattern of the couch cushions with one finger, trying to stop herself from blushing. An image of Missy flying through the air on the uneven bars, back arching and toes pointed, flashes through her mind for some reason. “I mean, that doesn’t sound-- no offense to whoever, but-- if I _did_ , I wouldn’t--”

“Relax, I was joking,” Missy says with a weird half-smile half-frown. “I don’t give a shit who you date.”

“Right,” Torrance says. “Anyway, how about you? Anybody new in town you have your eye on?”

“Mm, sort of,” Missy says. “I’ve been busy too.”

“Yeah, but sort of?” Torrance says. She moves to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing Missy. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.” Missy takes a gulp of her drink and stares at the TV. Torrance stares her down. “What?!” Missy demands finally. “There’s seriously nothing. All I do is study, work out, ignore my parents, and talk with you. My life is not that exciting.”

“Okay,” Torrance says, a little hurt. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Let’s go back to you,” Missy says firmly. “What is your type, exactly? Or what did you think it was?”

Torrance sighs. “I thought it was like Aaron -- sort of classically handsome, blond, lots of muscles, really sweet, that kind of thing.”

“Dumb as a box of rocks, super condescending, and he has a butt chin,” Missy adds. “You can do better.”

Torrance glares at her. “And then Cliff was like the polar opposite -- dark hair, bad boy, kind of rock-n-roll, but sensitive--”

“And a total smartass,” Missy says. “If you could make a guy from scratch who would be perfect for you, what would he be like?”

Torrance thinks for a moment. The tequila is starting to make her head swim a little bit. “I seriously don’t know,” she says finally. “Like, hotness is a plus, obviously. I don’t care about hair color. But mostly I want someone who gets me, who listens, who I feel like I can totally be myself around. Someone who’s interested in me for who I am now, and is okay with me not totally knowing who that is yet.” She turns the words over in her head again, and flops over on the couch. “That sounds so unbelievably dumb.”

“No it doesn’t,” Missy says quietly. “It sounds like you’re growing up.”

“Who are you, my mother?” Torrance sighs. “Besides, that guy doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe not,” Missy says. She finishes her drink in one huge gulp and gets unsteadily to her feet. “You want another?”

“Nah, ‘m good,” Torrance says. The couch is nice and fluffy, and the confetti on the TV is really sparkly. When Missy comes back, Torrance moves so that her head is on Missy’s lap, and watches the last of the special with her eyes half-closed. When the ball drops, they count down at the tops of their lungs. Missy leans down and kisses Torrance on the cheek. Torrance tries to do the same, and ends up kissing her shoulder instead.

“Happy New Year, sleepyhead,” Missy says, brushing Torrance’s hair out of her eyes. “Remind me not to give you tequila again.”

“‘Gnnight,” Torrance mutters, snuggling her face into Missy’s stomach. She smells like coconut body wash and grenadine, and Torrance falls asleep to the sound of her heartbeat.

When she remembers the conversation the next morning, she has a lot to think about.

***

Rancho Carne high school starts back up on the second of January, so for a week Torrance languishes at home, emailing her college friends and eating too many leftover Christmas cookies. She almost dials Missy’s number a few times, then remembers that it’s a school day and hangs up the phone.

“It sucks that you’re still in high school,” she tells Missy on Friday night, when they’re sitting on Missy’s bed eating homemade nachos and listening to the radio. “I don’t know what to do with myself with all this free time I have.”

“You poor baby,” Missy says. “You could come back and take over my spot on the spring fling planning committee.”

“You joined the spring fling planning committee?”

“It wasn’t my idea. My guidance counselor signed me up without telling me. Seriously, lady, just because I _can_ dance doesn’t mean I like _dances_.” Missy picks up a chip dripping with cheese and shoves it into her mouth.

Torrance wrinkles her nose. “Can’t you just quit?”

“No, my mother thinks it’ll look good on my college applications,” Missy says. “Because being a dedicated athlete apparently isn’t enough. I have to be popular, too.”

“It can’t be all that bad. At least you’ll get to pick some of the music.”

“Yeah, and show off all my super cool dance moves,” Missy says sarcastically.

“Super cool dance moves?” Torrance leans over to turn the radio up. “Let’s see what you got,” she says, raising her eyebrows at Missy.

“Ooh yeah,” Missy says, pursing her lips and moving her shoulders in time with the beat. Torrance’s expression doesn’t change, and Missy laughs. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Come on.” Torrance stands up and offers Missy her hand. “It’ll cheer you up.”

“Who says I need cheering up?” Missy asks, but she lets Torrance pull her off the bed.

“Everyone needs cheering up after a first week back at school.” Torrance twirls Missy around, then does a few moves from their swing dance lessons. “Come on, dedicated athlete, let’s see how you move.”

Missy does the Charleston for a few steps, then twirls into a pirouette and flings out her arm dramatically. The radio goes quiet for a second, then starts playing the rhythmic opening of a Britney Spears song. Missy perks up and moves her hips to the music. “This is more like it.”

“There you go!” Torrance says. She bounces over to turn off the lights, leaving the room dark except for the faint glow of Missy’s bedside lamp. “Let’s get this party started.”

Missy runs her hands through her own hair, hips circling in time with the music. She beckons to Torrance with one finger, and Torrance dances up to her, moving in close. It feels good to move like this again, confident and sexy, perfectly on the beat. She turns around, grinding up on Missy and making her laugh and put her hands on Torrance’s waist. Torrance lets herself get lost in the music, feeling the sweat start on her forehead and not caring as long as she can keep dancing like this, her boredom and discomfort totally forgotten.

The song transitions into something slower, with a deep bass line and a soulful voice murmuring lyrics. Torrance turns around and wraps her arms around Missy’s neck. Missy half-smiles at her and lets her hands fall away from Torrance’s waist.

“Come on,” Torrance says, more quietly than she meant to. “You need to practice your slow dancing too.”

“I think I’m good,” Missy says. Her hips are still swaying gently back and forth, following Torrance’s movements. Torrance glances down and sees Missy’s hands balled up into fists by her sides. When she looks up again, she’s made her decision. She leans forward slightly and presses her mouth to Missy’s.

Missy makes a surprised noise in the back of her throat and freezes. Torrance finishes the kiss and pulls back, looking at her expectantly.

“Are you for real right now?” Missy asks. Her voice is breathless, and she looks like she might bolt for the door at any moment.

“If you want me to be,” Torrance says.

“What does that mean?”

“It means--” Torrance exhales sharply. “It means I don’t know if my dream guy exists, but I know you, and you’ve got all those things I wanted. Plus you’re totally cute.” She smiles sheepishly. “And I’m pretty sure you have a humongous crush on me. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” Missy says. “But I was pretty sure-- I didn’t think--”

“Hey,” Torrance says firmly. “I’m in college now. I’m supposed to have new experiences, right?” She takes a half-step closer to Missy, pressing their bodies together, and Missy takes a slow, shuddering breath. “You’ve been the best part of this break,” Torrance says quietly. “You’re the only person right now who just sees me for me, and isn’t trying to keep me in the past. But it’s up to you.”

“Well,” Missy says, “I’d hate to deprive you of the full college experience,” and she leans forward and kisses Torrance back.

Torrance smiles against her mouth, then squeaks when Missy grabs her waist and presses against her. It’s weird, feeling breasts against her instead of hard muscles, but Missy’s hands are confident and she tastes like mint lip balm.

After a minute, Missy breaks the kiss. “Okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Torrance says. Her heart is beating a mile a minute, and she just wants to pull Missy towards her and kiss her again. “I should tell you, though, that I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.”

Missy smirks. “That’s cool,” she says. “I do.” She leans in again and Torrance kisses her hungrily, humming when Missy runs her hands over the small of Torrance’s back, then down over her ass. Torrance feels a breeze on her back as Missy lifts the hem of her tank top, breaking the kiss for a moment to pull it up and off. Torrance’s nipples harden in the cool night air as Missy kisses the corner of her mouth, then the side of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way to flick her tongue over Torrance’s skin.

Missy takes a step back and smiles, looking Torrance over with hungry eyes. “Damn,” she says softly. “You are _hot_.”

Torrance reaches for Missy’s shirt, and Missy laughs and grabs it herself, stripping it off in one smooth motion. She cups Torrance’s chin in one hand and kisses her again, mouth opening to lick at her lips. Torrance moans and leans in, wrapping her arms around Missy’s waist. Missy walks them back until Torrance’s calves hit the bed, then carefully tips Torrance over until she’s lying down with Missy beside her.

“How far do you wanna go?” Missy asks, running a hand over Torrance’s stomach just above the waistband of her jeans.

“How far can we go?” Torrance asks. “I mean-- can we-- whatever girls do, I want it. You just have to show me how.”

Missy makes an appreciative noise and leans over Torrance, kissing her collarbone, then lower. “Perfect,” she says, and runs a hand up to Torrance’s breast, squeezing gently and brushing her fingers over Torrance’s nipple. Torrance gasps and leans into the touch, closing her eyes and trying to name the new sensations. There are Missy’s nails scraping carefully over her ribs, Missy’s palm rubbing over her breast, Missy’s lips and tongue teasing her nipple in a way that makes her squirm. She can feel herself getting excited, tingly and wet, and she wishes Missy would take off her jeans already. Torrance squirms until her arms can reach her waistband and pops the button open, undoes the zipper, levers her hips off the bed to shove her pants down all while Missy’s tongue continues lavishing affection on her nipples, one then the other, making Torrance’s breath come in gasps and moans.

“Someone’s getting impatient,” Missy murmurs against her chest, and Torrance opens her eyes to see Missy’s hand snaking its way down her stomach to where the front of her panties are now exposed. She wishes she’d worn something cuter than plain white cotton. Missy slides off the bed and pulls Torrance’s jeans all the way down, then nudges her legs apart with a gentle push. Torrance shudders and spreads them wider.

Missy runs her hands up Torrance’s thighs, stopping just short of the hem of her underwear. She runs the backs of her knuckles over the front of Torrance’s panties, and Torrance squeaks, lifting her hips off the bed as she tries to follow the sensation. Missy laughs and does it again, harder, pressing her knuckles firmly against Torrance’s clit through the fabric. Torrance rocks against the pressure, biting her lip and tossing her head to the side. It’s so good, but it’s not _enough_ , and Missy’s just standing there grinning and barely even moving her hand, enjoying it, her tan skin glowing in the lamplight.

“God, you’re such a _tease_

“You know the nice thing about cheerleaders?” she asks conversationally as she slides a finger down Torrance’s stomach towards her clit. “They’re so flexible.” Torrance groans and opens her legs wider, and bites back a scream when Missy’s finger finally finds its mark.

“Do you do this?” Missy asks. “Touch yourself?” When Torrance nods, biting her lip, she says, “Show me how,” and steps back.

Torrance makes an impatient noise, but runs her hands over her own thighs, zeroing in on her clit and rubbing in quick side-to-side strokes. She can feel Missy looking at her hungrily, but she lets her head fall back and relaxes, letting her fingers fall into their familiar rhythm. She braces her heels on the edge of the bed, breathing hard and letting the pressure build in waves, better and better, closer and closer.

Missy’s hands run over Torrance’s body, stroking her stomach and breasts, rubbing her nipples, caressing the curve of her ass. One finger slides up to tease at Torrance’s labia, dipping just inside. “Can I?” Missy asks, and Torrance nods vigorously, getting too close to trust herself with speaking. Missy slides one finger inside of her, then two, and Torrance moans out loud. Missy lets out a long, slow breath and starts to move her fingers, slowly and rhythmically, drawing them almost all the way out before pushing back in. Torrance’s hips push forward almost of their own accord to meet Missy’s fingers, wanting them deeper, wanting more.

Her legs slip off the edge of the bed, and she nearly kicks Missy in the stomach. Her fingers lose their rhythm, and she lets out a laugh that turns into a whimper of dismay. Missy laughs, too, and crawls up onto the bed next to Torrance, shedding her pants and underwear as she goes.

“I think I’ve got the idea now,” she says. She curls her body around Torrance’s, tipping Torrance’s face towards hers for a kiss. Torrance sucks on her lower lip, kissing dirtier than she’s ever kissed before, and Missy moans. Her hand slips between Torrance’s legs again, rubbing Torrance’s clit gently. Torrance pushes her hips closer to Missy’s hand, tangles her fingers in Missy’s hair, kisses her hard. She puts a tentative hand on Missy’s stomach and runs it up to her breasts, wondering at the way they fill her hands so perfectly, at how lightly she can brush over Missy’s nipples and still make Missy moan. She breaks off the kiss and bends her head to lick at one carefully, then harder, swirling her tongue around like she’s licking a lollipop. Missy’s heart is beating like crazy, and Torrance is getting close again, and-- 

Missy suddenly stops rubbing her clit, and Torrance looks up in indignation to see her panting open-mouthed. “Scoot up,” Missy says, and something in her voice makes Torrance shiver all over. She scoots towards the head of the bed, and Missy kneels down in front of her and pushes her knees apart, pressing a kiss on the inside of Torrance’s thigh. Torrance giggles when Missy’s hair brushes the back of her knee, then gasps when Missy runs her tongue just barely past Torrance’s labia. Missy makes a pleased noise and delves deeper, pressing her tongue flat against Torrance’s clit. Her fingers slide into Torrance again, moving faster than before, and Torrance sees stars and lets out a strangled noise and mentally begs Missy not to stop, not now, she’s so close--

“Oh god,” she croaks, then “Oh god!” and comes so hard she can feel herself clamping down on Missy’s fingers. Missy keeps going until the last shudders have left Torrance’s body, then gracefully climbs up over her, planting kisses on her stomach, her breasts, her neck. By the time she gets to Torrance’s mouth, Torrance has mostly regained the ability to think coherently, and she kisses back enthusiastically.

“Okay,” Missy says, grabbing Torrance’s hand and pulling it towards her body. “Your turn. I’ll show you, just follow my lead.” She presses Torrance’s finger to her clit and shudders.

“I can figure it out,” Torrance says, and presses in again. She watches Missy’s face intently, figuring out what to do to make her close her eyes, make her suck in a sharp breath. It’s weird trying to do this from a new angle, but Missy makes it perfectly obvious what she likes and what doesn’t work, and soon Torrance has figured out a rhythm that has Missy rocking her hips into Torrance’s hand. Missy curves her body around Torrance’s and moves her hand down to fuck herself with two fingers. She comes a few minutes later, gasping into Torrance’s shoulder and shaking against her fingers.

“Not bad for a first timer,” Missy says.

Torrance flops back onto the bed and massages her wrist. “Wow.”

“Wow?” Missy grins. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Just wow.”

***

The night before Torrance leaves for spring semester, she has to keep herself from wolfing down her dinner. After reassuring her mom for the millionth time that yes, all her stuff is totally packed, she finally escapes to Missy’s house. They drink chardonnay and fool around, trying out all the things Missy has taught Torrance over the past two weeks and then some. They wind up lying on top of the covers of Missy’s bed, Torrance stroking Missy’s hair.

“So was this just like a winter fling?” Missy asks.

“I don’t want it to be,” Torrance answers honestly. “I like you a lot.” She props herself up on one elbow. “Do you think it was just a fling?”

“I don’t know,” Missy says. “I usually have rules about getting involved with straight girls. Those rules are: don’t do it.”

“I think you’ve kind of broken that rule already.”

“Just a little.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, then Torrance says, “I’ll be back for spring break in a few months.”

“Oh yeah?” Missy asks. “Not gonna go down to Cancun and flash your titties for the cameras?”

“Oh, well, now that you mention it, that sounds like a _way_ better plan than coming back and seeing you. Ow!” Torrance pushes away the pillow Missy has shoved into her face. “I’m just saying, we’ll see each other soon.”

“Yeah.”

“And you have my phone number, and my email.”

“Yeah.”

“I might be getting a cell phone soon, so you don't even have to worry about my roommate picking up.”

“Yeah.”

“Right. So, are we an item?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Torrance says, and closes her eyes.


End file.
